Caged
Draco sat on his bed. His father had locked him in his room, like an animal that needed to be contained. I'm your son.
He stared at the purple curtains on his windows. He can hear that same soft voice in the back of his thoughts. Well. It appears he truly loves you none. But then, did anyone ever love you? We know some spells to get past all the enchantments...
He feels every muscle in his body tense to walk towards the door. No. I am myself, not you. He's angry, infuriated, really. Angrily he resists and reaches under his bed-
-no, you fool!!-
The knife.
He's not afraid anymore... the numbness disappears and he feels... then feelings become words he can identify and he labels the emotions... anger... pain... hatred- -All of it was clear, sharp, like the cuts and lacerations he inflicted upon his arms, his legs.
He could hear Voldemort ranting in his ears, his thoughts, and emotions. But he was secretly pleased, the pain he was causing himself was his own, not something Voldemort forced him to do.
He stopped suddenly, face red and eyes dry. He wasn't crying. This pain was nothing new, it enveloped his entire being every moment with Voldemort in his mind. He stopped because something suddenly made him calm, still...
I warned you.
He knew what came next. Bracing himself, he closed his eyes and tightened the sinews in his legs, feeling the fear spreading over him in waves. He leaned against the bed, sitting on the floor, waiting,
"Go ahead, make my day," he said, mainly because it was so stupid and it would just make him angrier...
************************* Lucius's POV
Lucius walked. Quickly, anxiously, each step hollow on the wooden floor. He had been downstairs and heard a yell, terrible and bloodcurdling. It had greatly unnerved him, although he had a faint idea what it could be.
He burst into the room, slamming the door into the wall. He sees his son, covered in lacerations, angry, still fighting. His body was covered in blood and his eyes were full pain, but he was angry, which meant he hadn't given up yet. Good for you, Draco...
Quickly he guarded his thoughts again, realizing he might have blown his cover foolishly. This was a time he was thankful that he was a skilled Occulamencist; he could feel Voldemort probing his mind again...
"Do you love me."
It was really more of a statement than a question. Lucius didn't know what to answer. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he answered what he felt, yes he did. But what if...
The door slams open, leaving a huge cavity in the wall from the doorknob. It's as sudden as that, no time to react or think...
It's morning, bright, overly cheerful. Contrived, like a child's picture. Lucius is angry at the day for being so cheerful and completely blind to his irrationality.
He sits across from Draco, dodging Dumbledore's piercing gaze. Draco simply stares into space, all the anger gone from his eyes, hollow,
Impassive.
He wonders what will happen. Absentmindedly, vaguely just wondering for no particular reason. He's so weary of thinking, of trying to connect images to words and sound to thoughts he just decided to listen to Dumbledore's empty words.
"I understand this has been hard for you..."
No you don't...
"You have to understand it's not over, Though Voldemort no longer possesses your son, he is still out there... may... traces of himself... listen...
Lucius stopped listening.
Draco sat on his bed. His father had locked him in his room, like an animal that needed to be contained. I'm your son.
He stared at the purple curtains on his windows. He can hear that same soft voice in the back of his thoughts. Well. It appears he truly loves you none. But then, did anyone ever love you? We know some spells to get past all the enchantments...
He feels every muscle in his body tense to walk towards the door. No. I am myself, not you. He's angry, infuriated, really. Angrily he resists and reaches under his bed-
-no, you fool!!-
The knife.
He's not afraid anymore... the numbness disappears and he feels... then feelings become words he can identify and he labels the emotions... anger... pain... hatred- -All of it was clear, sharp, like the cuts and lacerations he inflicted upon his arms, his legs.
He could hear Voldemort ranting in his ears, his thoughts, and emotions. But he was secretly pleased, the pain he was causing himself was his own, not something Voldemort forced him to do.
He stopped suddenly, face red and eyes dry. He wasn't crying. This pain was nothing new, it enveloped his entire being every moment with Voldemort in his mind. He stopped because something suddenly made him calm, still...
I warned you.
He knew what came next. Bracing himself, he closed his eyes and tightened the sinews in his legs, feeling the fear spreading over him in waves. He leaned against the bed, sitting on the floor, waiting,
"Go ahead, make my day," he said, mainly because it was so stupid and it would just make him angrier...
************************* Lucius's POV
Lucius walked. Quickly, anxiously, each step hollow on the wooden floor. He had been downstairs and heard a yell, terrible and bloodcurdling. It had greatly unnerved him, although he had a faint idea what it could be.
He burst into the room, slamming the door into the wall. He sees his son, covered in lacerations, angry, still fighting. His body was covered in blood and his eyes were full pain, but he was angry, which meant he hadn't given up yet. Good for you, Draco...
Quickly he guarded his thoughts again, realizing he might have blown his cover foolishly. This was a time he was thankful that he was a skilled Occulamencist; he could feel Voldemort probing his mind again...
"Do you love me."
It was really more of a statement than a question. Lucius didn't know what to answer. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he answered what he felt, yes he did. But what if...
The door slams open, leaving a huge cavity in the wall from the doorknob. It's as sudden as that, no time to react or think...
It's morning, bright, overly cheerful. Contrived, like a child's picture. Lucius is angry at the day for being so cheerful and completely blind to his irrationality.
He sits across from Draco, dodging Dumbledore's piercing gaze. Draco simply stares into space, all the anger gone from his eyes, hollow,
Impassive.
He wonders what will happen. Absentmindedly, vaguely just wondering for no particular reason. He's so weary of thinking, of trying to connect images to words and sound to thoughts he just decided to listen to Dumbledore's empty words.
"I understand this has been hard for you..."
No you don't...
"You have to understand it's not over, Though Voldemort no longer possesses your son, he is still out there... may... traces of himself... listen...
Lucius stopped listening.